


Peculiar Object

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Category: Emelan - Pierce
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dedicate Crane comes across a strange object in Rosethorn and Lark's kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peculiar Object

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge. We were to write about a 'peculiar object.' This is crack!fic but it makes me laugh.

"Crane, what in Mila's bosom are you doing with that?" Rosethorn inquired shrilly as she entered her kitchen. The man looked up jerkily—one of the few times she had seen him surprised in last long while—and dropped his object. Before the chestnut-haired woman had reached him, he bent at the hips and swiped it back up.

"The color in my face has nothing to do with this peculiar object," he informed her with an arrogant sniff of his proboscis. "I found this on the kitchen table and wondered what use it could possibly have as a kitchen utensil."

Rosethorn couldn't help it. She laughed out loud, pointing and hooting as her cheeks flared with color.

"Lark, you pest!" she called out breathlessly. Crane stood rather flabbergasted as the woman swayed with laughter. She seemed to be almost crying.

"I beg your pardon?" the man asked coolly.

"What were you doing in my kitchen in the first place?" Rosethorn asked as she regained a small fraction of her ordinary thorny composure. Her eyebrow, at least, was cocked.

Crane mimicked the movement. "I was searching for the young boy of yours."

"Mine? Goodness, he certainly wouldn't have made it far coming from me," she countered with a light smirk. She looked to the object he still held in his hand and smirked even wider at his comment.

"Briar," the Earth Dedicate began again, "is out plucking at the pesky summer weeds."

The tall male nodded with half-lidded, prideful eyes. His chin was high, as if he himself had set the boy on his task. "I'm glad."

"Did your mother teach you to nick things off others' kitchen tables?" Rosethorn questioned with a wry tone. She took a grab at the object in Crane's hand and successfully slipped it from his grasp. He blushed deeply.

"No, of course not. My mother raised me well," he retorted haughtily. It was lost in the shade of his face and neck, much resembling one of Rosethorn's famous tomatoes. "How about yours? Keeping such a peculiar object on your table. What a horrible centerpiece!"

"You were closer before," Rosethorn retorted. "Utensil. You know what it is. Think back, boy."

He had to keep himself from glaring at her when called 'boy,' but did think back. When he struck a memory, he yelped audibly and shoved his fists into the pockets of his habit. "Disgusting!"

He had stormed out of the room before she could start howling with laughter again.

A tall, golden-skinned Earth Dedicate with wavy, short-cropped black hair and a catlike face stepped into the room as the man hurried out. She looked to Rosethorn with questioning eyes. Her voice was lilting and held confusion. "What was that?"

Rosethorn held up the object. "Crane was just remarking upon our 'kitchen utensils.'"

Lark blushed deeply. "Did I…?"

Rosethorn nodded.

"Are the children home?" the woman questioned once more, her blush fading into mischievous features. Rosethorn grinned in response as she shook her head gently and leaned against one of the counters.

"Shall we test our utensils?" the shorter woman suggested coyly as she let her breeches-clad leg slip out of the habit. Lark's face held a feral grin as she stepped forward and held Rosethorn's full hand as if to tango. The taller female leaned forward and nipped her lover's ear.

"But of course. Everything in this house must be in working condition."

"Good," Rosethorn replied. "You'll have this house up and purring in no time."

Lark laughed and took the soft-tipped wax stick from Rosethorn's hand, then captured her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
